Everywhere I Go

Everywhere I go, I see people I know – but they do not remember me.

That one there was in my junior high English class – but he does not remember me.

And over there is my childhood best friend – but he does not remember me.

She is the girl I first fell in love with – be she does not remember me.

And there my grade-school teacher – but she does not remember me.

A college mentor sits across from me on the bus – but she does not remember me.

That guy in the suit used to pick on me as a boy – but he does not remember me.

My grandfather is across the room – but he does not remember me.

A woman at the market who spoke kindly to me once – but she does not remember me.

That guy on the side of the road years ago gave me a ride – but he does not remember me.

A distant relative is waiting in line in front of me – but she does not remember me.

My dad is driving the car in the next lane – but he does not remember me.

The man at the library was the meanest teacher I ever had – but he does not remember me.

A coworker from my first job is the owner of this café – but she does not remember me.

A neighbor when I was eight is at the store with her family – but she does not remember me.

The first girl I kissed is several rows up on this plane – but she does not remember me.

And there, everywhere I go, am I – but he does not remember me.